Post by turdferguson on Nov 27, 2017 14:43:18 GMT
((ooc: fell way behind on CDs, tying up some loose ends here before I move ahead to more recent stuff))
Off Camera
Early September, 2017
Frisky wasn't sure why she was so tense, she told herself a million times that this meeting was a no pressure, no big deal situation. Yet, the few minutes she had been sitting in the waiting area seemed like an eternity. She fidgeted in place, trying to work off some nervous energy by twirling a few of her long locks in her fingers as she checked her phone. Finally, the receptionist called out to her, "Mr. Carbone is ready to see you."
Trying to hide the sigh of relief, the young wrestler put her phone away and forced an awkward smile as she stood up. "Thanks," she meekly stated while following the neatly dressed woman to the office door, not receiving much of a discernible response one way or the other. As one half of the double-doors swung open, she surveyed the office and the skinny middle aged man sitting behind the desk before she stepped in. Everything felt so-- sanitized-- in here she thought to herself, before concluding that maybe she just felt out of place.
"Come on in," the man motioned as he stood up. Frisky did so, and the receptionist shut the door behind her. She looked around as she approached his desk to shake his hand. Taking note of this, he tried to his best to break the ice, "It's a lot to take in I know, just make yourself at home though."
"It's something alright," she thought to herself with enough sass that she had to do a double take and make sure she hadn't said that out loud.
"It's great to finally meet you, Miss Dingo, please take a seat."
"Uh, you too Mr. Carbone," Frisky replied as she shuffled back to take a seat in the leather chair in front of the desk.
"Please, call me Carb Dog."
She blinked, wondering if this guy was serious. Once he'd sat back down she decided to just change the subject, "Anyways it's really flattering that you'd like to represent me, but I'm uh, not sure why exactly? I'm probably one of a million wrestlers out there in the same spot, looking to make a name for themselves and all that-- I still work multiple jobs, not exactly sure I'm a big catch."
"See, that right there is what I love," he responded with a smile, "You're down to Earth, you're relatable."
"Not sure many people can relate to being named Frisky Dingo."
"Ha, funny too," he chuckled, "My point is this-- I see a lot of 'characters' in your business, but you're the real deal. Someone that the kids out there can relate to, they just need to get their eyes on you first. One thing I realized in my time working with wrestlers is that a lot of them get poor career advice, which is where I come in for you-- if there's one thing I hate, it's wasted potential."
Frisky crinkled her nose, "I'm not sure having an agent manage my image and appearances and all that is the way to be real and relatable."
"See, that's the beauty, you just have to keep being you-- I'm looking for ways to get eyes on that. If you're skeptical, I've helped a lot of female athletes in my day, I know the struggles you go through-- wage inequality, the whole nine yards. I experienced that firsthand, I used to work for a little organization, you may have heard of it, it's called the LPGA."
"The what now?"
The cocksure smile that had been plasted across Carbone's face-- sure he'd delivered a home run shot-- quickly dissipated, "Women's professional golf, it's a pretty big--"
"Golf's not a sport though."
He let out a much more pained chuckle, "I think we're getting a bit off track here. How about we get into specifics of what I can offer you? I have a contract already drawn up if you'd like to take a look--"
"Yeahhh, I dunno about that," Frisky interjected, "I'm not really feeling this whole thing. To be honest, I wanted to hear you out because you know, I'm not great at handling my money and all that. But the more I sit here, the more I realize this like, isn't my scene-- at all. And I appreciate the offer, but you kinda skeeve me out dude, like I get the vibe you're trying to take advantage of a young naive chick." Noticing his face was starting to turn flushed, she held a hand up and tried to clarify herself, "Not like in a casting couch way-- please don't sue me-- I meant more like you're gonna try to get me to sign a contract that's good for you, really bad for me, making a bunch of promises--" an awkward pause hangs in the air,"-- like that dude, what's his face. The guy who produced Friday for Rebecca Black, and all those other preteens-- super skeevy and weird. " She shuddered before standing up, "Anyhoo, thanks again, but I can tell this really isn't gonna be a good idea for me."
On that note, she gave a small wave before turning to walk off. She reached a door, and jiggled the knob before realizing it was locked. A sense of panic started to rush through her, until she heard the voice of a clearly irked Carb Dog mutter, "That's the closet, use the double doors."
Turning around, Frisky nodded her head and gave a thumbs up. "I knew that, because that was--" the gears in her head were racing a mile a minute at this point, "-- your honesty test! And you passed, congrats, you're not as dishonest as I worried-- you can sleep easy tonight dude, you're good people." Her face contorted into an awkward expression, and she motioned her hands around aimlessly as she side-shuffled towards the exit, "Buuuut, I was serious when I said this wasn't really my vibe. Thanks again, gotta bounce, peace!" She quickly opened the door and shut it behind her, visibly embarrassed by the whole ordeal, and not in the mood to wait and see his reaction.
Fin.
Off Camera
Early September, 2017
Frisky wasn't sure why she was so tense, she told herself a million times that this meeting was a no pressure, no big deal situation. Yet, the few minutes she had been sitting in the waiting area seemed like an eternity. She fidgeted in place, trying to work off some nervous energy by twirling a few of her long locks in her fingers as she checked her phone. Finally, the receptionist called out to her, "Mr. Carbone is ready to see you."
Trying to hide the sigh of relief, the young wrestler put her phone away and forced an awkward smile as she stood up. "Thanks," she meekly stated while following the neatly dressed woman to the office door, not receiving much of a discernible response one way or the other. As one half of the double-doors swung open, she surveyed the office and the skinny middle aged man sitting behind the desk before she stepped in. Everything felt so-- sanitized-- in here she thought to herself, before concluding that maybe she just felt out of place.
"Come on in," the man motioned as he stood up. Frisky did so, and the receptionist shut the door behind her. She looked around as she approached his desk to shake his hand. Taking note of this, he tried to his best to break the ice, "It's a lot to take in I know, just make yourself at home though."
"It's something alright," she thought to herself with enough sass that she had to do a double take and make sure she hadn't said that out loud.
"It's great to finally meet you, Miss Dingo, please take a seat."
"Uh, you too Mr. Carbone," Frisky replied as she shuffled back to take a seat in the leather chair in front of the desk.
"Please, call me Carb Dog."
She blinked, wondering if this guy was serious. Once he'd sat back down she decided to just change the subject, "Anyways it's really flattering that you'd like to represent me, but I'm uh, not sure why exactly? I'm probably one of a million wrestlers out there in the same spot, looking to make a name for themselves and all that-- I still work multiple jobs, not exactly sure I'm a big catch."
"See, that right there is what I love," he responded with a smile, "You're down to Earth, you're relatable."
"Not sure many people can relate to being named Frisky Dingo."
"Ha, funny too," he chuckled, "My point is this-- I see a lot of 'characters' in your business, but you're the real deal. Someone that the kids out there can relate to, they just need to get their eyes on you first. One thing I realized in my time working with wrestlers is that a lot of them get poor career advice, which is where I come in for you-- if there's one thing I hate, it's wasted potential."
Frisky crinkled her nose, "I'm not sure having an agent manage my image and appearances and all that is the way to be real and relatable."
"See, that's the beauty, you just have to keep being you-- I'm looking for ways to get eyes on that. If you're skeptical, I've helped a lot of female athletes in my day, I know the struggles you go through-- wage inequality, the whole nine yards. I experienced that firsthand, I used to work for a little organization, you may have heard of it, it's called the LPGA."
"The what now?"
The cocksure smile that had been plasted across Carbone's face-- sure he'd delivered a home run shot-- quickly dissipated, "Women's professional golf, it's a pretty big--"
"Golf's not a sport though."
He let out a much more pained chuckle, "I think we're getting a bit off track here. How about we get into specifics of what I can offer you? I have a contract already drawn up if you'd like to take a look--"
"Yeahhh, I dunno about that," Frisky interjected, "I'm not really feeling this whole thing. To be honest, I wanted to hear you out because you know, I'm not great at handling my money and all that. But the more I sit here, the more I realize this like, isn't my scene-- at all. And I appreciate the offer, but you kinda skeeve me out dude, like I get the vibe you're trying to take advantage of a young naive chick." Noticing his face was starting to turn flushed, she held a hand up and tried to clarify herself, "Not like in a casting couch way-- please don't sue me-- I meant more like you're gonna try to get me to sign a contract that's good for you, really bad for me, making a bunch of promises--" an awkward pause hangs in the air,"-- like that dude, what's his face. The guy who produced Friday for Rebecca Black, and all those other preteens-- super skeevy and weird. " She shuddered before standing up, "Anyhoo, thanks again, but I can tell this really isn't gonna be a good idea for me."
On that note, she gave a small wave before turning to walk off. She reached a door, and jiggled the knob before realizing it was locked. A sense of panic started to rush through her, until she heard the voice of a clearly irked Carb Dog mutter, "That's the closet, use the double doors."
Turning around, Frisky nodded her head and gave a thumbs up. "I knew that, because that was--" the gears in her head were racing a mile a minute at this point, "-- your honesty test! And you passed, congrats, you're not as dishonest as I worried-- you can sleep easy tonight dude, you're good people." Her face contorted into an awkward expression, and she motioned her hands around aimlessly as she side-shuffled towards the exit, "Buuuut, I was serious when I said this wasn't really my vibe. Thanks again, gotta bounce, peace!" She quickly opened the door and shut it behind her, visibly embarrassed by the whole ordeal, and not in the mood to wait and see his reaction.
Fin.